


Acts of Service

by Choke-a-Bro (Vanya_Deyja)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU, M/M, Oneshot, Pre Brotherhood, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23609782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya_Deyja/pseuds/Choke-a-Bro
Summary: Ignis doesn't feel much, not easily. At sixteen he finds it hard to empathise with other people. When Gladio Amicitia returns to Insomnia and starts at his school it brings everything to the surface.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 17
Kudos: 60





	Acts of Service

Ignis finds high school kind of disgusting. He would rather be home schooled but his Uncle thinks it’s important he socialises with people his own age. Ignis doesn’t see the point. Most of the council will be varying degrees older than him when he takes his position as Hand of the King. His Uncle insists the students at the Insomniac Private Royal Academy are going to grow up to be industry leaders and officials but likewise Ignis doesn’t think, that being the case, they should meet each other at sixteen covered in pimples.

Still, despite his protests, Ignis goes to class every day and works hard to stay at the top of those classes. He’s not sure if he’s ever going to need a passing familiarity with classic literature when he’s running a country but if it ever comes up it’ll be handy to already know something about the topic. Today is the start of another week, another fussy spectacle, and not for the first time Ignis rues how spoilt his classmates are when he gets out of the car dropping him off. The Private Royal Academy is an all-boys school, which suits Ignis just fine, but they’re all such drama queens with their fancy yogurts and pressed blazers.

Ignis doesn’t have friends so much as allies, people he can get work done with, so he never expects anyone to greet him as he makes his way into campus. So you can imagine his surprise when someone comes barrelling into him.

“Ignis!”

Ignis blinks, straightens his glasses, and tries to re-establish a little distance.

“Do I know you?” Ignis frowns, brows pinched. Most of the pretty buff boys on campus only come looking for him when they’re about to fail a class. They know he has a weakness for handsome jocks but—

“It’s me!” The bigger boy explains unhelpfully. He eventually elaborates when he catches the mounting confusion on Ignis’ face; “Gladio,” he insists, “Gladiolus Amicitia.”

“ _Gladio?_ ” Ignis gawks. “Bloody Six, what have they been feeding you in Cleigne? You’re _huge._ ”

Gladio laughs. He’s been sequestered at a military academy out of Lestallum, learning the Amicitia way, and apparently the sun and mountains have agreed with him because he’s much taller and broader than Ignis remembers four years ago.

“What’re you doing here?” Ignis supposes, head tilting. “I thought you had another year of school before you came back?”

“Change of plans,” Gladio shrugs. “Noctis is looking well enough to start training after his birthday and Dad wants us to bond or something so…”

“Isn’t ten a little young?” Ignis feels his stomach twist. Noctis is a small child and he might be recovering from the assassination attempt when he was eight, the one which ruined his back and left him wheelchair bound for a considerable length of time, but his magic hasn’t come in yet and—

“I started at seven,” Gladio snorts. “Princess will be fine.”

“Hmm,” Ignis grunts sombrely, unconvinced.

Gladio seems to sense his discomfort because he quickly changes the subject.

“But, yeah, I’m back in Insomnia now. Dad thought it would be cool if we were at the same school. You can show me around.”

“Right…” Ignis considers. He and Gladio have never been exceptionally close but they’re sort of doomed to a lifetime together so he supposes he should play nice in that case. He just wishes he got a little forewarning. “Classes are going to start soon. You want me to show you to your building? Get you started? We won’t have any classes together but—”

“Yeah, that’d be amazing,” Gladio grins. “I think I need A Block? Can you lead the way?”

“Sure,” Ignis forces the best smile he can manage. “I have a feeling you’re going to be bored. We don’t have excursions to hunt monsters at Ravatogh here.”

“I think I’ll cope,” Gladio shrugs as they stroll. “How you been? You’re getting taller but you’re not bulking up. I’ll need to get you some protein.”

“I have plenty of training at the Citadel,” Ignis defends stubbornly, “I can hold my own just fine.”

“What have you been specialising in?”

“Daggers and lances.” Ignis shrugs. “Let me guess; broadsword?”

“You know it!” Gladio laughs. “We should spar sometime. You can show me how tough you’ve gotten.”

Something about the way Gladio says that rubs Ignis up the wrong way. Ignis just wants to grind his face into the training mats. Ignis might not be huge but he’s plenty skilled. He can throw big, dopey, Gladio any day of the week.

“Bring it on,” Ignis decides curtly.

“Oh, tough guy,” Gladio grins.

“You’re too cocky,” Ignis declares, “would suit you to get slapped around a little.”

“You wound me,” Gladio clutches his chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ignis snorts. “This is A Block so, if you’ll excuse me, I better get to class.”

“Thanks Ignis,” Gladio pats his shoulder, “I’ll come find you at break. You can introduce me to your friends?”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Ignis scrunches his face.

Gladio heads off into the building and shaking his head Ignis checks his phone as he walks. Ignis doesn’t have many people he considers friends but there are some notable exceptions. Regardless, he doesn’t have any missed messages so he tucks his phone away and heads to mathematics.

* * *

Ignis actually likes classes. He’s a little competitive and he wants to be the best so to his classmates he might be something of insufferable know it all but if they just tried a little harder maybe Ignis wouldn’t wipe the floor with them so regularly. There are a few tightly laced boys who want to shove Ignis off his intellectual throne and the subtle back and forth with them keeps Ignis conscious during most of his lessons. If he can show up Lester Hensley it’s a good morning.

When lunch rolls around Ignis doesn’t actually expect to see Gladio again. Gladio is a big, handsome, jock. He will have made himself popular during lessons and most of the boys in his year no doubt want him to play football on the oval during break. Its mildly homoerotic despite what the other boys claim. However—

“Hey Iggy,” Gladio greets, throwing an arm around him. “This is the part where you introduce me to your friends.”

“Gladio,” Ignis smiles tightly, gesturing to the empty picnic table, “meet the guys. Guys, meet Gladio.”

“Seriously?” Gladio snorts. “You don’t talk to _anyone?_ ”

“Not my style.” Ignis shrugs. Most people are kind of a waste of time. They want something, they’re stupid or they smell bad. “But, please, don’t let me hold you back. I’m sure you made some new friends during the morning.”

“I mean…” Gladio considers the rest of the students. “Sort of? If you come with me—”

“Not a chance.” Ignis grunts. “I’m staying right here.”

“Then I guess we get a lot of room to spread out,” Gladio slumps, arm falling off Ignis’ shoulders as he digs in his bag for his lunch.

Ignis tries not to roll his eyes, mildly confused by the display of loyalty, and whips out his phone. His expression falters, just for a second, but he tries to suppress it. Evidently he’s not quick enough because Gladio frowns and extends his neck a little.

“Who you texting?” He asks. “Girlfriend?”

Ignis shots Gladio the blankest, most exasperated, look he can orchestrate.

“Okay, maybe not a girlfriend,” Gladio snorts, “boyfriend?”

“Noctis.” Ignis answers, eyes on his screen as he taps away.

“ _Noctis?_ ” Gladio repeats incredulously. “What does he want? Shouldn’t he be at school?”

“We text,” Ignis shrugs awkwardly.

“He’s like ten,” Gladio scoffs, taking an aggressive bite out of his sandwich. “What’s he want to talk about? Trading cards?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Ignis frowns coldly, “but Noctis and I talk about a lot of things. He’s a smart kid.”

“Yeah but surely you’d rather talk to someone your own age?” Gladio suggests.

“Well when you start making interesting conversation maybe I’ll put my phone away,” Ignis snaps.

“He’s kind of insufferable though,” Gladio murmurs sullenly, munching.

“Yes, because after not seeing him for four years you’re a total expert.” Ignis scoffs, somewhere between frustrated, embarrassed and actually offended. 

“You always babied him too much,” Gladio continues to sulk.

“Well aren’t you going to make a friendly, approachable, Shield?” Ignis counters, irritation mounting.

“I’m going to be a great Shield,” Gladio snaps.

“Of course,” Ignis assures with a mocking smile.

“Asshole,” Gladio grumbles, yanking his bag up and stalking away.

Ignis sighs but can’t help feeling a little relieved. He’s never any good with people and he’s always been protective of Noctis. Gladio might be handsome but Ignis isn’t sure he could stand him long term. It’s probably better they establish a more professional relationship. They’ve got to play nice. It doesn’t mean they have to like each other.

* * *

Ignis’ Uncle Iren and his Uncle’s paramour Henry very pointedly ask him about school at dinner. Ignis has to morph his expression to something not discernibly tight and frustrated.

“So school was fine?” Henry supposes. “Just fine?”

“Just fine,” Ignis repeats.

“Clarus mentioned Gladiolus was going to be starting today,” Uncle Iren remarks. “Did he come say hello?”

“Yeah, I saw him,” Ignis assures. “He’s gotten bigger.”

“You both have,” Henry smiles indulgently.

“Insomnia is different to Lestallum, Gladiolus will likely need some help settling,” Uncle Iren supposes, again pointedly.

“Oh, he was getting along just fine when I saw him,” Ignis diverts. “He’s evidently very sociable.”

“Then you should take some pointers,” Uncle Iren jokes.

“I think we run in different circles.” Ignis insists as gently as he can.

“Maybe now, but you’re going to be working very closely together when you leave school.”

“Well since we’re still at school…” Ignis shrugs. “No harm in giving him some space, surely?”

“You’d benefit from some friends your own age, Ignis,” Uncle Iren stresses in the same gentle tone.

“I probably would,” Ignis concedes, “but maybe Gladiolus isn’t where we start that campaign.”

Uncle Iren and Henry exchange a look.

“Maybe not,” Uncle Iren gives him an inch. “Just remember to use your manners, okay?”

“I’m always polite.” Ignis promises.

“I know, Sport.”

“Iggy,” Henry raises his voice tentatively, “don’t forget you’ve got an appointment with the counsellor tomorrow, okay?”

“Right,” Ignis nods. “I won’t forget.”

Dinner seems enormously long but when Uncle Iren and Henry start talking around him Ignis relaxes fractionally. He’s not sure what this fascination with him making friends is. He just wants to be left alone.

Checking his phone under the table Ignis manages a weak smile.

[Noctis: _are you coming to see me this week?_ ]

[Ignis: _I’ll be there Friday. You excited for your birthday next week?_ ]

[Noctis: _the party’s going to be horrible._ ]

[Ignis: _I think you’ll like your presents. Everyone’s been asking me for suggestions._ ]

[Noctis: _Yeah? Well if you picked them they’ll probably be good at least. That’s one good thing… You’ll be at the party too, right?_ ]

[Ignis: _all night. We’ll sneak into the garden and drop confetti bombs in the fountain.]_

[Noctis _: omg yeeees! You’re the best!_ ]

At least Noctis likes him just the way he is.

* * *

Ignis doesn’t expect Gladio to even acknowledge him the following day. He expects a cold, cold, shoulder from the Amicitia boy but Gladio’s there at the gate when he arrives.

“Morning!” Gladio calls.

Ignis pauses, gesturing to himself cautiously.

“Yes, you,” Gladio laughs. “Who else would I be talking to?”

“I don’t know,” Ignis shrugs, “literally anyone else?”

“Well I’m saying good morning to you,” Gladio snorts.

“Morning,” Ignis replies dumbly. “Are we talking again?”

“I…” Gladio shrugs awkwardly. “I might’ve gotten a little rough yesterday. If you and Noctis talk that’s good. You’re just closer to him than I am so… I mean, it’s a good thing. You should be on good terms.”

“You still think it’s weird though.” Ignis concludes, hefting his bag a little higher up his shoulder.

“A little,” Gladio admits, “but it’s not like it’s my business who you talk to.”

“Right,” Ignis tilts his chin up stubbornly. “But… I’m….” Ignis looks for the right words, feeling small. “Thanks for the apology. I’m sorry I got snappy.”

“It’s cool,” Gladio promises. “Ready to head in?”

“Yeah, sure.” Ignis concedes following Gladio into the gate.

As they head into campus Ignis feels eyes and notes the hurried approach of one of the younger boys. A quick glance confirms Luke Kingston heading their way. Luke is buff but thick as two bricks. Ignis is helpless.

“Hey! Ignis!” Luke greets. “How ya going?’

“What are you failing this time, Luke?” Ignis greets, barely slowing his pace.

Gladio looks confused.

“I’m getting fucking railed in chemistry.” Luke confesses, getting straight to the point. “My Dad says if I flunk he’s going to cut my allowance.”

“Oh no, no more Letterman jackets,” Ignis mocks. “You look so good in those.”

“Oh don’t fuck around,” Luke huffs impatiently, “you’ll help, right?”

“I mean…” Ignis pretends to think about it. “Are you going to pick this up quicker than you did economics last semester? I’m a busy man.”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Luke snorts, smugness creeping out.

“Is this guy bothering you, Iggy?” Gladio interjects finally, confusion getting the better of him.

“Keep out of it, beef cake,” Luke snaps. “Are you going to help or not Ignis?”

“Ugh,” Ignis sighs, “four sessions then we’re done and don’t go fucking up my shirt this time.”

“Deal!” Luke agrees. “Knew you were good for it, you’re a life saver Ignis.”

Then Luke is gone and Gladio looks like his brain might just explode.

“What was that about?” He asks.

“Nothing,” Ignis dismisses.

“No, seriously,” Gladio presses. “Do you do tutoring or something?”

“Basically,” Ignis shrugs. “It’s nothing.”

“Right…” Gladio doesn’t look convinced.

Ignis has a subtle problem. He tutors dumb pretty boys and, in exchange, they make out. It’s not a huge deal in Ignis’ mind but he certainly doesn’t want it getting back to his Uncle or anyone at the Citadel. Best not to tell Gladio anything in this instance. Ignis might not like people but he has needs. He is a teenage boy despite all insistence to the contrary.

At lunch Gladio makes another attempt to sit with him. Ignis still doesn’t understand. He’s prickly and stubborn. Gladio isn’t protected by an innate urge to dote like the way he feels around Noctis so honestly this is risky business.

“What did that guy this morning mean?” Gladio asks again, trying to unearth the cause of his suspicions.

“He wants help with his classes, that’s all,” Ignis shrugs. “Speaking of… how are your classes going?”

“Yeah I’m fine,” Gladio shrugs. “I was studying health sciences back in Lestallum and that’s getting me through biology alright for now. Literature Studies won’t be an issue. Cultural Studies we get beaten into our skulls in the Citadel so I’m not worried. Basically, it all sounds pretty familiar.”

“That’s good,” Ignis tries to encourage. “I might be able to help if you get stuck but I wouldn’t plan on it. I thought Literature Studies was elective in your year?”

“Yeah,” Gladio nods, “only thing that gets me through the day honestly. I like literature.”

Ignis tilts his head but tries not to be smarmy. Gladio likes literature? Seriously? He doesn’t look the sort.

“I’ve never understood the appeal,” Ignis admits. “Books can be interesting but most of them take too long to get to the point.”

“Its an experience,” Gladio insists. “Besides, books can be really romantic.”

“Romantic?” Ignis frowns. “How?”

“There are just so many ways to tell someone you love them,” Gladio shrugs. “I mean where do you even start?”

“I’d rather just show someone I care,” Ignis shakes his head.

“Yeah but actions can be misconstrued and loaded with different intentions. There’s something honest about words, written or spoken.”

“I’ve never had any problem,” Ignis shrugs, “if I want someone to know I care, they know.”

“So what? You buy flowers?” Gladio supposes curiously.

“No,” Ignis scrunches up his face. “I…” He tries to explain himself. “Its about acts of service. I’m there. I’m helpful, I’m doting, I’m gentle. That gets the point across plenty.”

“That’s one approach.” Gladio hums, seeming to tuck the information away like its important business.

Should Ignis be saying he cares more often, he wonders? Noctis seems to know he loves him already. He couldn’t possibly pour more love into every second he’s with Noctis. He’d just die of exhaustion.

“I feel like…” Ignis is surprised he’s talking again, but it bothers him. “I would want to know someone loved me, not be told. I feel like just saying it is the easy way out.”

“Maybe,” Gladio considers thoughtfully, “but sometimes people speak different languages—”

“I think we all speak Lucian here—”

“No, like love languages,” Gladio laughs.

“ _Love Languages?_ ” Ignis frowns, spectacularly confused.

“Like some people feel more loved and satisfied in different ways. Some people crave and need different things.” Gladio tries to explain. “So while you’re learning someone’s love language sometimes its clearer for everyone if you put it in words. I mean I’ve certainly had people think I’m trying to be nuisance when I’m just trying to be close, ya know?”

“I guess…” Ignis considers. “How do you even know so much about this?”

“It’s just something that interests me,” Gladio shrugs. “I mean, yeah, I like hunting and camping and swordplay but I also like books and romance and stuff… is that weird?”

“No,” Ignis manages to answer levelly. “It’s just… I didn’t expect it.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Gladio grins.

“So…” Ignis frowns again. “Are you saying someone might feel more loved if they hear it out loud sometimes? Because that’s more in line with their needs? Even if you’re showing them in other ways?”

“Yeah,” Gladio nods. “Exactly.”

Ignis chews on the notion.

“You look like you’re going to think a hole in your head,” Gladio laughs, tapping his skull before Ignis can brush him off.

“I just never thought about it that way,” Ignis admits. “It’s worrisome.”

“Why?” Gladio blinks.

“Well…” Ignis shrugs. “I’m not very affectionate but when I care I want someone to know how I feel. The idea that maybe I could show it better or differently to make them happier is kind of upsetting. What if I’ve been doing it wrong?”

“I don’t think you can do it wrong, Iggy,” Gladio chuckles. “I think if they’re still around they know you care plenty.”

Ignis frowns all the same. He doesn’t want Noctis to know he cares. He wants Noctis to know he’s the centre of his whole universe. That’s different. That said he doubts Gladio would understand in this instance and he doesn’t want to sound as weird as he feels.

* * *

Right after lunch Ignis’ free period is taken up by his appointment with the counsellor. He tries to shake Gladio but the Amicitia boy insists on walking him to C Block. Ignis knows there’s going to be trouble the second he steps into the office and the Counsellor, Arabella, tilts her head at him in that ultra-coy way.

“Afternoon Ignis,” she greets. 

“Afternoon,” Ignis manages a tight smile as he takes his seat. “What’s that look for?”

“What look?” She replies.

“You look like you’re up to something,” Ignis grunts.

“Just wondering who that boy was,” Arabella shrugs. “I haven’t seen you with him before. Are you tutoring him?”

“No,” Ignis answers tightly.

“Is he a friend?” Arabella looks downright enthused at the prospect.

“No,” Ignis maintains. “We’re going to work together at the Citadel when we graduate. He’s making nice. It’s practical.”

“He doesn’t have to escort you to your appointments,” Arabella weighs in, “sounds nice to me. Are we sure he’s making nice or are _you_ just making nice and _he’s_ trying to be friendly?”

“I don’t know,” Ignis grunts stubbornly. “What does it matter?”

“Well you don’t want to put him off if he’s being friendly,” Arabella insists. “Is he kind?”

“I guess…?” Ignis frowns, not sure where this is going.

“Then you should give him a chance,” she suggests. “If he’s new here he probably likes having a familiar face he can spend time with.”

“I don’t see why that’s my problem,” Ignis finds himself crossing his legs and folding his arms. He knows it’s a defensive pose but he doesn’t care honestly.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone you can relax with?” Arabella begins that same argument they’ve had countless times. “Your Uncle is very worried you’re not forming bonds with people your own age or at all.”

“I care about the people who matter.” Ignis shrugs.

“You’re going to be in a very important job, Ignis,” Arabella reminds like he’s somehow forgotten, “and it’ll be important for you to have empathy sometimes with complete strangers.”

“I’m supposed to help the King make wise decisions for the good of Lucis,” Ignis counters stubbornly. “That’s a logical stance. Rational. It has nothing to do with putting ourselves out for strangers—”

“A king who doesn’t care about his people when they’re in need won’t be very popular.” Arabella tuts.

“I guess…” Ignis mumbles.

“Did you try reading that book I gave you?”

“Yes,” Ignis sighs, fishing it out of his bag.

“What did it make you feel?”

“I don’t know, what was I supposed to feel?” Ignis fumbles. He hates how lost he feels in these sessions. He doesn’t know what the right answer is. He doesn’t know what Arabella wants him to do. If he knew he’d just fake it till he didn’t have to see her anymore. She asks these questions and they’re not rational, there isn’t a mathematically correct answer, and so he’s totally lost.

“Well what did you feel?” Arabella prompts.

“I don’t know…” Ignis strains uncomfortably. “Sad?”

“Not what you think will make me happy, Ignis,” she reiterates. “What did you feel?”

“Frustrated I had to read another book,” Ignis grunts tartly. “I didn’t see the point.”

“Those stories were pretty diverse but they all focus on the lived experiences of real people.” Arabella explains. “Did any of it resonate with you? At all?”

“Should it have…?” Ignis hesitates.

“What about Minerva, the third story,” Arabella suggests. “She worked very, very, hard to care for her little brother and give him a better future. Did you see yourself in her? Even just a little?”

“Not really?” Ignis shrugs. “Was I supposed to?”

“Some of her experiences are very like what you describe to me sometimes,” Arabella shrugs gently.

“But it’s different,” Ignis frowns.

“How?”

“Because she’s not me. I don’t even know her.” Ignis fumbles to explain himself. “I just… I don’t know. I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t feel it. I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to be feeling.”

Arabella frowns gently, chewing her bottom lip.

“Ignis have you ever wanted to talk to your brothers and sisters? The ones that still live with your biological parents?”

“Sometimes,” Ignis shrugs.

“Why?” Arabella presses.

“I just want to know if they’re like me, I guess.”

“Do you think you could feel the same way about any of them that you do about Noctis?”

“No,” Ignis shakes his head immediately.

“Why not?”

“Because they’re not Noctis.”

“And why do you like Noctis so much?” Arabella pushes.

“I don’t know why,” Ignis confesses. “Noctis is just different.”

“Who do you like, Ignis? If you had to spend time with someone who would you spend time with?”

“Uh…” Ignis toys with his fingers, cross arms slackening into his lap. “Noctis, Uncle Iren, Henry…?”

“Who else?”

“Does there have to be anybody else?” Ignis frowns.

“The people you listed,” Arabella changes tangents, “do you love them?”

“Yes,” Ignis promises, feeling more certain that he has in long moments.

“If they were upset, for whatever reason, do you think you’d be able to empathise with their feelings?”

“Yes,” Ignis nods tightly.

“Do you ever remember that happening?”

“When Noctis was hurt, when he was eight,” Ignis recounts. “I was scared for him and when he was in the wheelchair I was sad he might never walk again.”

“Do you know why?”

“Because it made him sad, because he couldn’t do the things he wanted, because I wanted him to be happy and comfortable.”

“You love Noctis and your Uncles very much, Ignis.” Arabella stresses sincerely. “I can see how much you love them and you’re very sweet with them. I just want you to be able to feel more with more people. If you could open up to more people I think you’d like the world a little better.”

“I get that,” Ignis promises, “but I don’t know how to do that.”

Arabella thinks for a moment.

“Two things,” she decides, “before next session I want you to try and let that boy be a friend and not just a person you see every day—”

“How?” Ignis moans.

“How do you think people treat friends? Feel about friends? Think about friends?” Arabella prompts. “Second, I’m going to call your Uncle. I think, if possible, you need something alive you can love.”

“Like a plant?” Ignis sighs.

“Like a dog.” Arabella encourages.

“I…” Ignis frowns. “I had a question. Before I leave.”

“Oh?” Arabella perks.

“That boy,” Ignis cocks his head towards the door, “he was talking about love languages, is that a real thing?’

“Yes, actually.” Arabella smiles. “Why?”

“I just…” Ignis shakes his head. “How do I know what someone’s love language is?”

“Usually you and they take a quiz,” Arabella shrugs.

“What if I’m doing it wrong?” Ignis posits. “What if I’m not showing the people I love that I love them clearly enough? What if I should be saying it?”

“Why don’t you try saying it more and see what happens?” Arabella encourages. “I don’t think that would hurt anything. I think it might be good for you.”

“Okay,” Ignis takes a deep breath. “Are we done Miss?”

“Yes,” Arabella promises. “Have a nice afternoon Ignis.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

The only good thing about this week is Noctis’ upcoming birthday. Ignis and Uncle Iren arrive well before the festivities start Friday afternoon and Uncle Iren is rushed off to King Regis while Ignis is ferried to Noctis’ rooms.

Noctis, for a split second, looks absolutely wretched with nerves and general discomfort but then he spots Ignis from the windowsill and comes barrelling across the room while the maid closes the door behind herself. Ignis throws both arms out to catch him and Noctis seems intent on burrowing his whole weight into Ignis’ chest. Ignis hefts, pulling Noctis up off the floor, and Noctis wraps tighter around him till Ignis can set them both down on the couch.

“Iggy…” Noctis mumbles into his shirt, burrowing still.

“Hey Noct,” Ignis feels his smile come across his face despite no pre-planning, and stroking Noctis’ hair he tucks the princeling in his arms more securely. He feels much easier with Noctis. It’s almost like he feels too much with Noctis. It’s a strange sensation but Ignis loves it and despite the tangled mire of this ‘ _empathy’_ concept which seems to elude him he can always read Noctis’ expressions.

“I don’t wanna go to the party,” Noctis moans. “Can’t we just stay here?”

“If we stay here we can’t put laxatives in the punch,” Ignis tempts softly into his crown, the prince cradled up against him.

Noctis laughs despite himself.

“Will you stay with me all night?” Noctis asks, peaking up from under his chin.

“All night,” Ignis promises.

Noctis slumps back down, little hands tight in Ignis’ shirt, and Ignis feels that niggle of uncertainty forming a ball in the back of his throat. He doesn’t want to complicate his time with Noctis but he wants to know if he could be doing something better somehow.

“Hey, Noct,” Ignis rubs his back. “You know…” Ignis fumbles. He feels stupid.

“Hmm?” Noctis perks, blinking against his neck with those long doll-like eyelashes.

“You know I love you, right?” Ignis tries despite how unnatural it feels to say it. He does love Noctis but—

“Yeah…?” Noctis stiffens, tense with something strange. “You do?”

“More than anything,” Ignis promises.

Noctis squeezes impossibly tighter, like he’s trying to get under Ignis’ skin.

“Bad?” Ignis fumbles, feeling foolish. Fuck, if he screwed something up—

“No,” Noctis promises. “Say it again?”

“I love you so much,” Ignis promises, nuzzling the top of his head. “Should I say it more often?”

“Please,” Noctis begs, a tightly wound little ball in his lap. “I love you too Iggy, lots and lots.”

Ignis sits with that for a moment. It does feel kind of nice to hear it. Noctis is the centre of his universe. To hear he matters, to hear Noctis loves him, is… it is nice, he’ll admit. Maybe Gladio isn’t entirely filled with bad ideas?

“We should get changed,” Ignis rues a few moments later, when he can’t justify holding Noctis for much longer.

“I have to wear a suit with regalia and stuff,” Noctis grumbles. “I can never—”

“I’ll help,” Ignis promises. “Those clasps are tricky.”

Some people would call it ‘ _beneath station_ ’ to help the crown prince get changed when they’re high ranking nobles but Ignis doesn’t see it that way. Noctis has been so shy and reserved since the assassination attempt that he doesn’t like people touching him in almost any context. Maids can barely help him get ready for school. Ignis knows Noctis feels safe with him and that means more than all the riches or gossip in the world. Noctis doesn’t care if Ignis sees his back. Noctis sits still for Ignis because he isn’t restless and anxious. Who cares if Ignis _needs_ to do this? He _wants_ to do this. 

Sitting on the edge of the couch in his own suit Ignis straightens Noctis’ hair as the Prince stands before him and arranges his golden finery.

“Did you really bring confetti bombs?” Noctis whispers as Ignis does another button.

“You bet,” Ignis promises.

Ignis isn’t normally much of a rule breaker. He can’t typically be assed. But if it made Noctis smile he’d blow up the national bank with C4.

Ignis kisses the bridge of his nose.

“I think you’re all ready.”

“Is anyone new coming tonight?” Noctis frets.

Ignis runs through the guest list in his head again.

“Do you remember Gladiolus Amicitia?”

“Clarus’ son?” Noctis frowns. “Have I met him?”

“You would’ve been six or smaller,” Ignis shrugs, “he’s been studying in Lestallum but he’s back now. You’ll meet him tonight.”

“Is he nice?” Noctis prods.

“He’s alright,” Ignis shrugs. “He’s going to be your Shield.”

“Can’t you just do everything?” Noctis half jokes.

“I don’t think I’d look good with that big tattoo,” Ignis grins playfully.

“Uncle Clarus is nice at least,” Noctis shrugs, thinking on it. New people often make him nervous especially if he has to make nice or have some kind of working relationship with them. Feeling new people out is hard for him.

“He’ll be nice too,” Ignis promises, “and if he’s not I’ll kick him in the groin.”

Noctis laughs.

“You would not!”

“I go to school with him, I’m sure I could find an excuse,” Ignis grins.

Noctis grins widely. It’s important to Ignis that Noctis knows he’d do anything for him.

Standing Ignis takes Noctis’ hand and prepares to escort him into the slowly filling ball room. They’ve opened up the balconies into the green houses and there’s a lightness and a summery warmth to everything in the room. There’s a pile of presents people are adding to. Noctis’ secretary will have to send thank you notes to everyone and Noctis will have to sign the damn things. It looks like they’ve opted for a spread of food and waiters with trays which makes spiking the punch harder but Ignis will find a way.

Ignis leads Noctis through the crowd. They stop for the usual introductions and greetings but Ignis keeps them moving towards the dais where King Regis is resting with his retinue.

“There he is,” King Regis grins, “our birthday boy.”

Noctis is a little sheepish at the best of times. He loves his father but Regis has his own subtler ways of showing affection Noctis doesn’t always understand and they get so little time together with their schedules—

“Comere Highness,” Clarus invites, “let’s see how big you’re getting.”

Noctis snorts, much more familiar with Clarus’ brand of fussing, and leaves Ignis to climb the dais. Clarus hefts Noctis off his feet and into his arms with faux strain.

“You’ve grown at least a foot!” Clarus insists. “Built like an MT!”

Noctis laughs, held on Clarus’ hip, and seems to ignore the rest of the world while the Shield whispers to him. The royals have one, sole, heir and Noctis is precious for this amongst many other reasons. He’s their prophesied ‘ _King of Kings_ ’ whatever that means and how could anyone not love Noctis? Ignis smiles to himself, waiting, and beckoning his Uncle calls him up onto the dais with the rest of them.

“Afternoon Ignis,” King Regis greets, taking both his hands warmly. “You’re looking so grown up. How’s school going?”

“Ignis is top of his classes,” Uncle Iren boasts.

“I am not surprised,” King Regis promises. “You made a very smart decision with Ignis, Iren.”

“Well I got to choose my heir,” Uncle Iren nods, “and I knew our dear Prince couldn’t have anything but the best.”

“How is Henry?” King Regis asks them both, squeezing Ignis’ hands.

“Very well, Majesty,” Ignis promises. “He’s insisting on getting me a cat.”

“How lovely,” King Regis chuckles, releasing one of Ignis’ hands. “Clarus are you ever going to share my son, or…?”

“You’ve lost him forever,” Clarus assures, hefting Noctis on his hip.

“Oh, well, if _that’s_ the case,” King Regis surrenders. “I suppose I have no recourse.”

“None at all,” Clarus nods sagely.

“Hand him over, Clarus,” Uncle Iren sighs, dutifully getting between the two of them when neither King nor Shield will budge.

“Ugh, if I must,” Clarus bemoans, “shuffle over Ignis.”

Clarus places Noctis down on the arm of his father’s seat and King Regis secures one arm around his son.

“Are you looking forward to tonight?” King Regis asks.

Noctis forces a smile as best he can but its faltering.

“Me neither,” King Regis murmurs conspiratorially, “but we’ll get through it. There’s going to be cake.”

“Chocolate?” Noctis supposes, always a touch cautious with his father.

“I’m not a complete savage,” King Regis promises with a grin. “Chocolate for days.”

Noctis grins softly.

“I’m sure Ignis is going to keep you company tonight?” King Regis supposes.

“Like always,” Ignis promises.

“And you’ll get to see Gladiolus again,” King Regis sounds enthused by that too. “He’s gotten so big too. He’ll be able to throw you over his head.”

“Are we formally presenting them, Majesty?” Ignis asks.

“No, no, no fuss.” King Regis insists. “I think that can be a private, friendly, meeting between our Prince and his Shield.”

“Of course, Majesty.” Ignis nods. “I’ll see to it.”

“You’re always so organised,” King Regis chuckles, squeezing his hand. “You’re just like you’re Uncle.”

“And you would all be lost without me,” Uncle Iren nods.

“I think we’d cope,” Clarus scoffs.

“For a day,” Uncle Iren snorts.

“You better run boys,” King Regis tuts helping Noctis off the arm of his seat, “they’re going to start squabbling like hens any second.”

* * *

The thing about royal events is it’s a lot of fake smiling and making nice but once the formal greetings are over there’s not much else to do. You can socialise but most of the people who want to socialise with ten year old Noctis are trying to get their daughters married. No, Ignis and Noctis make their own fun. They try everything the waiters are presenting and find increasingly elaborate places to hide the food they spit out. They divide the noble houses of Lucis based on what RPG class they’d fall into. And, when it gets dark, Ignis feels the confetti bombs in his pockets and they sneak out to the gardens.

Ignis hefts Noctis onto the edge of the fountain. They’re still very much in the inner citadel here in the greenhouses but the party lights don’t quite reach this far. There are little garden lights and kingsglaive hiding in the perimeter but no one who’s going to bother them. 

“Would you like to do the honours?” Ignis asks.

“Yes!” Noctis chirps, taking the confetti bomb.

They dunk it into the fountain and Ignis uses the light from his phone to really capture all the glitter swirling in the water and making its way through the reflux system until the little angels are spewing glitter too. Noctis cackles.

“There are other fountains,” Ignis tempts.

“Someone’s going to have to clean this up,” Noctis laughs.

“Not us,” Ignis shrugs, lifting him down onto the grass. “Come on.”

Noctis takes his hand and they scurry further into the garden, away from the party, towards another fountain. Ignis is careful to avoid the antiques in favour of the newer, remodelled, installations. He wants to cause mischief not get them into serious trouble.

Ignis hefts Noctis up onto another fountain’s edge and starts digging for the confetti bomb.

“Ignis?”

Ignis spins so fast Noctis yelps and has to grab his shoulder to stay balanced.

Ignis squints in the low light.

“Oh, Gladio,” he greets, arm wrapping around Noctis’ waist to steady him. “I didn’t recognise you in the suit. What’re you doing out here?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Gladio grunts, “aren’t you supposed to be back at the party?”

“We’re….” Ignis fumbles for an explanation.

“Who’s the kid?” Gladio gestures.

“This is Noctis,” Ignis cocks his chin. He turns a little, more to Noctis; “Noct, this is Gladiolus Amicitia.”

“Oh, right…” Noctis wavers. He’d be better if they were meeting in the swirl of the party. Things are different in private. He’s impossibly nervous, little hand tight in Ignis’ shoulder pads.

“Pleasure, your Highness,” Gladio greets, going through the motions.

“Yeah,” Noctis fumbles, “it’s nice to meet you, Lord Amicitia.”

“Are you two supposed to be out here?” Gladio supposes, more turned towards Ignis as he speaks.

“If you want to be a killjoy you can go back,” Ignis turns his chin up, “we’re just talking.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure the Glaive would be freaking out less if you were talking back inside.”

“You’re here,” Ignis declares, “you’re trained. We’re perfectly safe.”

Gladio seems to colour, even in the low light.

“That’s _not_ —” He gets quite flustered, angry almost.

“Well if you want to go back inside, Gladiolus, I won’t stop you.” Ignis shrugs.

“Ugh,” Gladio moans, “you’re so insufferable sometimes. Just come back inside.”

“Are you pulling rank?” Ignis counters.

“No!” Gladio huffs. “I just—”

“Then I don’t have to,” Ignis maintains stubbornly.

“At least let me take the Prince back,” Gladio insists.

Noctis presses a little closer to Ignis, hands white knuckled in his suit.

“We’ll come back in a minute,” Ignis maintains. “Give us ten.”

“I’ll wait with you,” Gladio huffs, arms crossing stubbornly. “If you’re just talking what’s so special I can’t hear?”

“Alright,” Ignis weighs his options. “Noct hold the phone, okay?”

“What’re you—?” Gladio steps closer.

Noctis giggles, holding the phone with the flashlight on while Ignis dumps the second confetti bomb into the fountain.

“Oh my god!” Gladio moans. “What’re you, four?”

Ignis grins at Noctis, holding him steady, watching the glitter clog another fountain.

“I like em better this way,” Noctis whispers to Ignis coyly.

“Me too,” Ignis grins, “when you’re King—”

“Okay, are you done?” Gladio fusses impatiently. “If you’re finished ruining the installations—”

“These aren’t the antiques,” Ignis corrects, “they got installed in the remodel. They’re easy to clean.”

“Ugh, whatever, just come on!” Gladio orders.

“In a minute,” Ignis dismisses, more focused on Noctis and his soft delight.

“Being a real great influence there, Ignis,” Gladio grumbles.

“What’s the name of his Highness’ guardian, Gladio?” Ignis counters. 

“What?” Gladio lurches.

“Well you’re such an expert on the Prince’s needs I’m sure you know—”

“Will you just lay off!” Gladio snaps. “We’re going to get in trouble!”

“We’ll get scolded,” Ignis scoffs. “It’s hardly the same.”

“Ugh…” Gladio runs a hand through his hair, practically tapping his foot.

They wait a moment, watching the glitter circulate, and then Ignis helps Noctis down.

“Ready to go back?” Ignis checks.

“Yes!” Gladio interjects exasperatedly.

Ignis shushes him.

“Noct?” He checks.

“Yeah, okay,” Noctis permits, taking his hand.

“You’re so nuts,” Gladio huffs, following them back towards the party.

“And you’re a traitor if you rat us out,” Ignis replies.

“Ugh, don’t worry,” Gladio assures, “I didn’t see anything.”

“Glad we agree,” Ignis smirks.

“We’re going to be training together after all this,” Gladio grunts, drawing Noctis’ attention. “I’m not going to baby you like this guy. You’re going to have to act like a real man.”

Noctis blinks, glancing furtively to Ignis.

“Okay,” Noctis replies, defaulting to the unenthusiastic compliance as he tends to exhibit with high ranking officials he has no intent of actually listening to.

“I— _ugh!_ ” Gladio groans. “I’m serious! This shit isn’t cute!”

“It’s fun,” Ignis replies curtly.

“You do understand you’re not allowed to do this kind of stuff, right?” Gladio rounds on Noctis again.

“I’m not dumb,” Noctis frowns tightly, starting to pout. Feeling cornered. 

“Could’ve fooled—”

“ _Lay off,_ ” Ignis hisses, squeezing Noctis’ little hand in his.

“Someone should tell him—”

“Watch yourself,” Ignis maintains the same razor-sharp tone. “You get have the high ground, if you want it so bad, but you don’t get to talk to your prince like that.”

“I thought you were supposed to be smart,” Gladio grumbles, kicking a stone in the grass a little too aggressively. “Why are you even—?”

“Because you get to be an idiot every fucking day without twenty armed guards breathing down your neck,” Ignis rounds on Gladio savagely. “ _He’s ten_. He gets to be a stupid kid sometimes. I always make sure it’s safe. Sorry if actually letting him have a childhood is so offensive to your sensibilities.”

“He doesn’t get to be normal, Ignis. He’s going to be king, that means—”

Ignis is too far gone to remember his manners at this point.

“You just got here. Stop pretending you know anything. If you wanted a good king so bad you’d let him act like a real person. He’s not a doll, Gladio. He’s a kid.”

There’s a yank as Noctis stops walking. Ignis whips back around. Noctis sniffs. He’s probably scared, frustrated, embarrassed… he hates being the centre of attention at the best of times let alone in a disagreement. Noctis start to rub at his face, trying to compose himself, but with every little pawing motion he starts to untangle further into actual crying.

“Oh Noct, Noct—” Ignis falls to his knees and pulls the Prince into his chest. “It’s okay, I’m sorry. It’s okay.”

Gladio looks conflicted for a split second, a little shocked the Prince is actually teary, but he scowls, trying to make his point, and opens his mouth.

“Get lost.” Ignis orders roughly. “ _Now._ ” 

Gladio pauses, scowling, but throws his hands up and stalks away. Ignis glares him down during the entire retreat back inside, rubbing Noctis’ back while the Prince whimpers.

“I’m so-s—“ Noctis tries to string together a sentence but he’s still too upset.

“It’s okay, shhh, it’s okay,” Ignis buts their noses together. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up somewhere quiet, okay?”

Noctis nods messily, rubbing at his face.

Ignis sneaks them into a private sitting room and four tissues and a bottle of water later Noctis looks a lot less red faced and puffy then he did twenty minutes ago. Ignis cradles him, letting him catch his breath, and Noctis is obviously still very upset even if he’s stopped crying. It’s not a surface crack it’s a deep, inbuilt, pain he’s feeling. That urge to be normal and the vicious resistance the world presses against his instincts.

“He’s a jerk,” Noctis rues, playing with Ignis’ tie absently.

“If he gives you a hard time, you’re to tell me,” Ignis orders.

“Yeah,” Noctis nods into his shoulder, “I will.”

Ignis isn’t sure he believes that, Noctis endures a lot without daring to complain, but if he gets the slightest hint that Gladio is giving the boy a hard time Ignis will ruin his fucking life.

* * *

On Monday morning Gladio is waiting outside the gate. He looks a little sullen, a little cautious even, but he makes eye contact with Ignis and seems to be about to say good morning when Ignis stalks right by him. Fuck Gladiolus Amicitia. He made Noctis cry. Noctis is one of three people Ignis actually likes. Gladio can rot.

Ignis knows Arabella is going to be disappointed and give him a hard time at their next session but he’s not faking emotions just to pretend to be better adjusted. Maybe he could fake comfort over apathy but he can’t fake fondness over rage. He’s not going to pretend to like someone who upset Noctis just to make the adults around him happy. He knows where his loyalties lie.

Ignis makes it through most of the day without blowing up but he’s a little curt in classes and it seems he has to make an actual effort to avoid Gladio. Gladio tries to talk to him at lunch and in study hall.

“Tutoring,” Ignis informs him over Luke Kingston’s head before he can open his mouth, “come back later.”

Gladio grumbles but stalks away.

“You’re kind of hot mad,” Luke whistles lowly, watching Gladio stomp away.

“Shut up. How do you solve this equation?” Ignis prompts impatiently.

They go for a good hour, circling around the points Luke doesn’t quite understand. Ignis unpacks every section diligently and, at times, repeatedly until the puzzle pieces start to click in the idiot’s brain. Then, session concluded, they take the emergency exit out of the library to exchange payment behind the gymnasium.

Luke is big but he lets Ignis push him against the brick work and kiss him roughly. Ignis doesn’t leave marks nor allow marks to be left but Luke’s lips are going to be puffy and raw when they’re done. Ignis tugs his shirt out of his pants and drags his nails up the other boy’s sides. Luke still scrambles for purchase but he’s better at this than he was last semester. He fists Ignis’ hair, bucks his hips, and for a second Ignis starts to forget why he’s so angry—

 _Thump_.

“Shit!”

Ignis twists back around to find Gladio, bag dropped, gaping at them.

“ _Oh my fucking_ —” Ignis starts to groan exasperatedly.

“Whoa, whoa,” Luke pants, “I didn’t agree to company!”

“What’s going on?” Gladio demands in a splutter. “What are you—?”

“Ugh,” Ignis pushes off the brickwork. “Scram Kingston.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Luke snorts, hefting up his bag and turning tail. “Hey, does this mean I still owe—?”

“Get lost!” Ignis snaps.

Luke scrambles away.

There is a long, awkward, silence that follow.

Gladio is gaping. Ignis rolls down his shirt sleeves roughly and straightens his glasses. Fucking figures. Today is just not his day, is it?

“What was that?” Gladio repeats tentatively. “A-are you dating that loser?”

“That slack jawed…?” Ignis’ face must betray his disgust. “Of course not!”

“Then why are you making out with him?” Gladio stresses dumbstruck.

“It’s not your business.” Ignis grunts, folding his arms.

“Do you do that a lot?” Gladio presses.

“No!” Ignis fumbles. “I—Sometimes! It’s complicated!”

“So what? Complicated how?” Gladio demands. “You tutor guys and they make out with you? Is that it?”

Ignis drags his teeth along his bottom lip tensely, “sort of…”

“You are fucking kidding me!” Gladio wheezes, burying a hand in his hair. “You’re not serious. Are you…? _You’re serious?_ ”

“It’s not your business,” Ignis maintains, trying not to flush.

“Do you sleep with them?”

“No!” Ignis huffs. “I’m not a slut!”

“Oh yeah, of course, I should’ve known.” Gladio laughs mockingly. “You can’t seriously be doing this. Why don’t you just get a boyfriend?”

“I don’t want a boyfriend!” Ignis snaps.

“You’re a good-looking guy! You’re smart!” Gladio snaps back roughly. “Just ask someone out!”

“I can’t!” Ignis hisses. “I-I wouldn’t know where to start! And, besides, I don’t want a boyfriend. I just want to make out, okay? Fuck, get off my case…”

“You could get in trouble,” Gladio maintains, “I should tell your Uncle—”

“Don’t!” Ignis whips around in a rush of blind panic. “Please don’t!”

“But this is crazy!” Gladio stresses.

“I already have to go to this stupid therapist,” Ignis moans, pained and frustrated. “They already think I’m weird and I don’t know how to fix it. If you tell him this too, I’ll be screwed!”

Gladio takes a deep, trembling, breath and runs a hand through his hair. He looks lost. He looks stunned.

“Okay, okay…” Gladio steadies himself. “I won’t tell Lord Scientia but you’ve got to meet me halfway here.”

“How?” Ignis murmurs, trying not to shake with frustration and panic.

“You’ve got to stop whatever this is,” Gladio gestures vaguely to behind the gymnasium, “and you’ve got to be my friend.”

“ _Seriously?_ ” Ignis wheezes. “Are you fucking serious right now? Why do you even like me? I’m a jerk!”

“Do you want me to tell your Uncle or not?” Gladio snaps back exasperatedly.

“Fine!” Ignis groans, burying his face in his hands. “Fine…”

Gladio gives him a second to gather himself.

“Not exactly how I pictured apologising….” Gladio murmurs softly.

Ignis laughs brokenly.

“Are you okay…?” Gladio asks.

“No,” Ignis grunts weakly.

“Come on,” Gladio beckons, “let’s go back. I’ll buy you a soda.”

“I don’t—”

“Shut up,” Gladio snorts, “sugar’s good when you’re sad.”

“ _I’m not—_ ” Ignis fusses.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Gladio rolls his eyes. “Come on.”

Sighing Ignis picks up his bag.

* * *

Gladio sits with Ignis out by the oval as last period drones on and they sip their sodas. Ignis is calming down now but he still feels painfully stupid.

“You were going to apologise?” Ignis repeats tentatively.

“Didn’t mean to make the kid cry,” Gladio murmurs. “He is just a little kid. I… I don’t know. I got flustered. I wanted our introductions to be nicer than that but now he probably thinks I’m an asshole.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Ignis sighs, slouching back into the top of the picnic table behind him.

“Why’re you in therapy?” Gladio asks gently. “Did something bad happen?”

“I’m not…” Ignis shrugs awkwardly. “I don’t know how to feel things like normal people do.”

“What do you mean?” Gladio frowns.

“My doctor says I have trouble ‘ _forming connections_ ’ and _‘feeling empathy_ ’.” Ignis recites dryly. “There are people I like and I feel things with them but it’s hard with everyone else. It doesn’t just happen for me. Everyone keeps telling me I should feel something but I don’t know what I’m supposed to be feeling…”

Gladio blinks, digesting that.

“That’s rough,” he sags into a slouch. “Is that why you don’t want a boyfriend?” 

“I feel…” Ignis fumbles. “I get aroused. But I don’t get crushes. Pretending I like someone sounds like too much trouble if I can just…”

“Right…” Gladio nods. “Still, I don’t think you should do that. It’s dangerous.”

“You’re a romantic, right?” Ignis laughs sourly. “What’s it supposed to feel like?”

“Like the best and the worst thing all at once,” Gladio shrugs, “like you’re so happy but so fucking terrified at the same time. Like you want to throw up. Like you’ll literally die if they don’t talk to you.”

“Sounds awful,” Ignis sighs.

“Kind of is,” Gladio admits. “There are people you like though, right?”

“A few,” Ignis shrugs.

“Like who?”

“My Uncle, Henry, Noctis.” Ignis recites.

“I guess if _‘forming connections_ ’ was hard I’d be pretty protective of the few people I did like,” Gladio rues. “It must hurt a lot when Noctis is sad.”

“Feels like I’m going to die.” Ignis murmurs.

“I’m sorry,” Gladio winces. “I think I panicked. I’m usually way better at thinking straight and being charming but here in Insomnia I feel a little out of my depth. There are so many people I want to impress it just… it’s hard.”

“I get that.” Ignis nods quietly. “It’s hard being young and stupid but with all this responsibility.”

“Agreed,” Gladio snorts. “Do you… do you really not feel anything? For other people?”

“There are people I think are good and people I think are bad. I get upset and I get happy.” Ignis shrugs. “I just…I don’t know. I don’t let people close. I’m not sure I know how to let people close.”

“Good thing I’m a resilient lab rat, eh?” Gladio forces a weak smile.

“I’ll do whatever if you don’t tell my Uncle,” Ignis assures, “but I think I’m a pretty shit friend honestly. So, if I were you, I’d ask for something else.”

“No, I stick by it.” Gladio insists. “I want to be your friend.”

“Why?” Ignis groans. “You keep trying so hard and I just… I don’t get it. I’m no fun and…”

“Honestly?” Gladio murmurs. “I’ve kind of always had a crush on you.”

Ignis stiffens. “What…?”

“In a perfect world I’d ask you out,” Gladio shrugs, “but this is way too complicated to just do that. You wouldn’t like it, you probably wouldn’t even agree to it, and you’ve obviously got some screwed up feelings about people so… for now? It’s probably better to just be your friend.”

“Why would you have a crush on me?” Ignis insists, confused.

“You’re cute and you’re wicked smart,” Gladio murmurs, playing with the soda can in his lap. “You’ve always been confident. Even when you had braces, back when we were smaller,” Gladio laughs weakly. “I think… I don’t know. I just like the air around you.”

“I…” Ignis slumps. “Thanks. I—I’m not sure what to say to that. I think you’re handsome, sure, but I don’t feel anything and I just… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Gladio assures. “That’s why we should be friends. Honestly, I think it might help. I know it sounds stupid but I get so jealous when I see how you are with Noctis.”

“Jealous?” Ignis reels.

“Can you blame me?” Gladio laughs, self-deprecating somehow. “You’d move mountains for him. Just getting a text from him makes you smile. You adore him. When I feel invisible that makes me pretty jealous.”

Ignis frowns, glancing back to his lap. “Honestly? I don’t know why Noctis is so special to me.” He confesses. “I can name a thousand good things about him but my therapist says that’s just how people feel when they love someone so I don’t know if it’s unbiased. I don’t know why I let him in, I don’t remember what changed or when, I just know I feel… I feel different with him and I love it. I love him. I love how I feel around him.”

“My Dad says,” Gladio sighs, “that real love is generous and spacious. He says that parents don’t have a limited amount of love they have to dole out between each child. He says it’s like… like you grow a whole second heart when you have another kid. I don’t want to take away how happy that all makes you. That’s really special. But, you know, I’d like to be on that short list of people you like and who make you happy.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Ignis murmurs. “I’d tell you not to get your hopes up but you’ve proven to be exceptionally stubborn so…”

Maybe it’ll take a long time, but…

Ignis thinks maybe he _could_ learn to trust Gladio, rely on him, love him.

Maybe not the same way he loves Noctis, maybe something different, but still strong. Still good.

Ignis, for the first time in a long time, is ready to see what happens at least?


End file.
